


Everything and Nothing had changed

by Sica520



Category: Danny Phantom
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Bigotry & Prejudice, Dehumanization, Denial, Dreams and Nightmares, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Facing hard facts, Five Stages of Grief, Guilt, Kinda, Maddie is a terrible mother, Mother-Son Relationship, Obsessive Behavior, Post-Magic Reveal, Science Experiments, Self-Denial, What Have I Done, and she knows this, and what you still want to do, but she is trying, like what you wanted to do to your son, not really - Freeform, sorta - Freeform, the reveal doesn't magically fix all the relationship problems
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-18
Updated: 2019-09-18
Packaged: 2020-09-28 01:08:28
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,082
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20417360
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sica520/pseuds/Sica520
Summary: "Danny. Ghost or human. Fenton or Phantom. It doesn't matter. It doesn't change how I feel about you. Sweetie, nothing could ever change the way I see you," it had been exactly three days since Maddie Fenton said that. Three days since her world turned upside down in one flash of light. And after three days of trying and failing Maddie wonders when she will be able adjust. If she ever will. A lifetimes worth of prejudice doesn't just go away in three days. A scientists and a hunter doesn't just give up the pursuit. A mother doesn't just get over the death of her son. It's been three days since everything changed, and nothing has changed.





	Everything and Nothing had changed

**Author's Note:**

> The Fentons. Oh the Fentons. They can be obsessive and stubborn, and completely blinded by their hatred of ghosts. They can seem neglectful or full on terrible parents. But when the reveal happens it usually goes one of two ways 1) Bad ending: either disowning Danny or dissecting him or 2) Good ending: oh Danny's a ghost well then magic 180 on everything we ever thought. But what about the neutral ending? After all reality doesn't really work like that, usually it is a bit more messy. Relationships take more work to heal. Maddie Fenton has been portrayed as ruthless cold scientist and loving mother who would never hurt her child. What happens when those two identities are in direct conflict?

Madeline Fenton was flying high on pure _elation_. She was walking on clouds. This pure giddy happiness permeated through her.  
Everything in her life has lead up to this moment. It felt only _right_ that it was happening on this stage.

Right here at the Wisconsin University auditorium.

In front of every single person who every called her stupid, crazy, or unbalanced. They saw her now. Every prevalent scientist who had called her a loon and that ectobiology wasn't a "_real_" discipline and therefore her "_doctorate_" was invalid. All those so called friends who told her that Jack Fenton wasn't an "_appropriate match for her"_, why on earth would she "_lower_" herself for that "_fool_". Her own parents who never forgave her for "_wasting her brains_" hunting "_figments of delusions_" instead of becoming an "_actual doctor"._

Now here they _all_ are to witness her contributions to an official governmently recognized science. As she finally caught the illusive Phantom. The ghost that had _mocked_ her almost as much as the crowd. The first ghost she had ever seen, and now it was all hers. Hers. Tied down and helpless. At her mercy, and she didn't have any to give to an ectoplasmic copy of posthumous consciousness.

She would rip it apart and show everyone just how _real_ ghosts are. She was high on her own victory. The ever methodical Dr. Fenton made her incision in the shape of the classic Y.

Her specimen struggled and tried to fight against her. It was to no avail though. The creature was paralyzed and sedated. He couldn't even scream, after all she didn't want it to use its most powerful move.

She stuck her hand into his chest and found the proof of concept that she had been searching for: the ghost's core.

She had to break a couple of strange solid glowing things similar to ribs to get at it. She also had to move anatomically correct but fake nonfunctional copies of green glowing organs out of her way. That surprised her, to be honest. According to her research ghosts should be little more than bags full of ectoplasm swirling in on the core. It shouldn't have solid structures like a skeleton. Ghosts were invertebrates, more kin to insects all of the skin and imitation of life on the outside and nothing much of substance on the inside. It shouldn't have a replica of a heart. It shouldn't have organs to take, but there they were. Of course it couldn't really make much of a difference, it's not like the organs were real. Simply imitations just like everything else about the spector. Still, she would have to return for those later. Oh, the tests that she would have to run...But, not now...Now, she couldn't get distracted by trivial curiosities, not when she wanted the ultimate prize. She grabbed the core, it sparked like a generator but her gloves were designed to withstand it, and _pulled_.

It was otherworldly and held all of his secrets. It was _hers_. She smiled viscously as she ripped it out of his chest with all her strength, his body wouldn't give it up without a fight.

Even though the sedation and paralysis the ghost reacted to such an action. He was very good at imitating pain. Or was it possible that a ghost actually did feel something as she tore out the core? Not pain or emotions or something as sentient as that, but more like a machine trying to run without the proper parts. The essential hardware is corrupted and the whole endeavor is failing in on itself. Or perhaps more like an animal reacting to intense danger.

It didn't matter much, because his core was hers.

She gleefully presented her findings. A ghosts core: the energized essence that powers them. Some compared it to the heart (although that analogy always carried with it too human like connotations for Maddie's taste), or perhaps the brain. Yes that worked better, after all animals have a brain. In fact it could be argued that even an inanimate object like a computer has a brain, or something that functioned very much like a brain. Which supported her hypothesis that the intense "_pain"_ that he was feeling was nothing more or less than a computer trying and failing to reboot while missing a key component. 

Everything that this boy had been, is, and would have had the potential to be was stored like data files in a main hard drive. The drive she just ejected. The data was accessible. Everything about him was finally _hers_.

It pulsed in her hands.

Was it somehow still connected to the boy?

Still able to react to its host? 

Fascinating.

Is that because of the maintained proximity? 

She was about to test it. 

But then something went _wrong_.

The world shifted. 

The stage tilted. 

Her vision skipped suddenly flashing black and then resuming like nothing had happened. 

But something had. 

Something very _wrong_.

It wasn't a case of cold feet. She wasn't nervous. No, she had absolutely no problems staring down every single naysayer as she conducted her experiment.  
She ignored her feelings of unease as she easily sliced and tore Phantom apart, sectioning off bits and pieces to be saved in specimen jars... But something had _changed_ in the atmosphere.

The auditorium suddenly felt _oppressive_.

This was no longer an academic autopsy. The audience was shouting and calling for blood like a gladiator arena.

She then changed, too, matching her surroundings. Her collected professional manner lasted only a split second longer then she discarded it, gladly.

No time for professionalism. Not when her prize lay right in front of her.

She _hated_ him. This horrible excuse for an existence.

She _loved_ him. Something new that science couldn't explain, yet.

She wasn't carefully extracting parts with a set goal in mind and a process to follow. No not anymore. Now she was tearing through him in a frenzy. Carelessly and violently destroying this ghost as an apex predator toys and devours their prey. Molecule by molecule.

She wanted to know all about it. What made this ghost tick? It was hers, finally finally hers.

_You can't hide anything from me. I will know everything about you. No more lies, no more frustration, and no more unanswered questions_.

She would rip the answers out of him just as easily as she tore it's core from it's chest.

She dug into the ghost with almost an insane rabid abandon. It was she herself that was fueled by animalistic desire, rather than the ghost. Ectoplasm covered her, head to toe. It stained the stage. The smell dominated the area.

But something was _wrong_.

The _color_ was wrong.

This _feeling_ was wrong.

Everything was sticky and _red_.

It made her feel nausea rather than triumph.

That wasn't right.

This was her dream. She had wanted this for so long. She ignored how she felt sick to her stomach and continued. She had to continue. She had to know. There was no stopping. Not now. 

No stopping.

No matter what. 

No matter how his tear filled blue eyes begged her to stop.

Wait.

_Blue_.

No that was _wrong_.

How _dare_ he.

She should see two swirling toxic green portals with inhuman pupils. With no emotions. The emotion was fake. Ghosts couldn't feel. They couldn't cry. It was a trick. Why wasn't he conforming to her theories? How _dare_ he try and rewrite the basis of ectobiology.

She grabbed one of her tools and ripped the _offensive_ colored eyes out of his head.

The empty maw poured bright green. A much more appropriate color to be in a ghost's eye socket.

Ectoplasm was globbing and oozing down his face.

Staining his _dark_ hair.

No. No, that wasn't right either.

His hair should be bright fluorescent white. It should be free flowing as if he's underwater. He should look ethereal and supernatural.  
He didn't. For some reason he looked just like...

No, this _wasn't_ right.

This couldn't be right.

It was a trick.

A _sick_ trick.

No.

Not.

Her _son_.

* * *

Madeline Fenton woke up in a cold sweat. She barely made it to her bathroom before she threw up. Violently.

That was the worst nightmare she had ever had.

But the worst part of all was that a couple of days ago the same dream had been _wonderful_.

The last time the colors hadn't been wrong and her actions hadn't seemed morally reprehensible. Before her world had completely been turned upside. Before she brought her desires to the forefront of her mind and followed them through to their logical conclusion. Before she realized what she had actually been desiring to do. And _who_ she wanted to do it to.

Her son.

Even if he looked like Phantom. He was still her son.

He had always been her son.

No. It can't be. It's impossible. It's just some sick joke. Not real. Just a nightmare. 

Phantom, her son. 

She couldn't get his betrayed look out of her head. His blood covered her hands. Green and red. Impossibly combined.

She was despicable.

His blood covered her. A mixture of dripping blood and congealed globs of ectoplasm. She felt dirty, she would never feel clean again.

What kind of mother dreams about strapping her son down and vivisecting him?

What kind of mother wants nothing more than to tear a beating heart, because that is what his core is isn't it, out of a child?

Her _own_ child.

What kind of mother secretly still wants to use her son as her lab rat?

She could claim ignorance on a lot of things.

But then... She was neglectful. What kind of mother doesn't even realize when her son died?

Because of her, her invention.

He was her son.

Her ghost. Her responsibility. Her fault. She was shaking. The world was spinning.

She was truly horrible.

Plus her claim of ignorance doesn't hold up. It doesn't explain these last couple days after she found out.

It had been _three days_. Three days since everything changed. And yet nothing really changed and that was the worst part of all.

Three days since she told him that she loved him no matter what and that would not change for anything. She couldn't let this change how she saw him. How she felt about him.

Three days of awkward encounters. Of not being sure how to ask something or talk to him in general.

Three days of pushing away that nagging feeling that something was very very _wrong_ with her child. She was his mother, she should be the one to fix what is wrong. Dry his tears. Ease his pains.

_Don't you want this to stop, Danny? It's hurting you._

_Let me help. Let me fix it._

_So this won't hurt you anymore._

Three days of trying to figure out how to politely ask if she could studying him. For his own good, of course. To better understand him.

She just wanted to understand.

She had always been like that, even as a child. Asking why, poking and prodding for answers, taking things apart to better understand how they fit together.

She never realized before that taking something completely apart for the purpose of understanding it's every single mechanism, was in and of itself the _destruction_ of the original.

The things she could find out from dismantling...

...No. She wouldn't do that.

She couldn't.

He was her son. The mantra that played on and on whenever she saw him.

The fact that even her subconscious wouldn't let her run from. Her son. Her baby boy.

He was also the most saught after specimen in all of paranormal scientific history. An impossibility that should have never came to be. A paradox that could hold all the answers to the nature of ghosts.

No. No. No. She couldn't think of him like that. Even in the dead of night, away from everyone else.

Not when the feeling of her hands in his chest was still so present.

But the damage had been done. She had been repeatedly dehumanizing him for years, and now one simple fact was going to just change all that?

How naïve was that sentiment.

The simplest fact of all: he was her son. The love of a mother for her child; such a powerful fact that should be able to fix anything.

_Mommy can make it all better._

_Mommy will always be there for you._

_Mommy will protect you from the nightmares._

_What if Mommy was the nightmare?_

What then could she do?

It had felt so real. So gloriously and horrifically real. As her subconscious warred between her two most prevalent identies; am I a mother or a scientists? Could I be both? The nurturing soft touch of a mother who gave her life to her child. The cold calculations of the scientific quest for knowledge who stole the death of her child.

No. No. No. She was shaking again.

She was crying. She was dry heaving.

She was going to wake someone up. So she scrambled out of the bathroom. She needed to leave. She shouldn't disturb the other people sleeping in the house. She briefly considered checking on Danny, just to make sure that it really was a nightmare. But she certainly couldn't wake him up, he needed all the sleep he could get. He always looked so exhausted.

Could he even sleep? Or did he shut down to a state of dormancy like other ghosts?

Stop. No. She couldn't ask questions like that. 

She made her way down stairs. Whenever she couldn't sleep she would work in the lab. But the moment she went down there she had to fight the urge to throw up again.

The sickly acidic smell of ectoplasm was everywhere. Every single invention was so so... So... _dangerous_. How had she not seen that before? Who makes something that tears the skin off of something and flayed them alive?

No. Not alive.

Dead. Ghost. Didn't matter.

Danny.

No.

The operation table. She couldn't wait until Phantom was strapped there and she had him all to herself. She would systematically reduce him into an "_it_", just another mechanism to break apart. _What does this do?_ She would ask as she tortured him. _What is this part for?_ As she tore out his organs. And once everything was dismantled and catalogued, she always put her toys back together. The pieces strewn about the floor like a puzzle. It would be so much fun. First Dismantle and then reassemble. Reverse engineering this impossible creature. 

But it wouldn't ever be the same, would it?

No. Of course not.

Shaking hands ran over her equipment. A trick of her imagination or were they stained red with blood? She shook her head.

The lab felt _hostile_. She needed to leave... now. She tripped in her haste to get away from the examination table. She fell on her butt. Facing the thing that started it all.

The _portal_.

Her pride and joy.

The thing that _murdered_ her son.

Her son. Danny.

Her pride and joy.

She _hated_ it.

She _loved_ it.

It was her creation. Her and her husband had come together to make something breathtakingly beautiful. Months of anticipation. A stiring inside her as it drew closer and closer to the due date. Hours of painful labor. So many sleepless nights. And finally something new. Something that would forever change her life. A miracle born into their world.

Her little miracle. The thing she had dreamed of for as long as she could imagine. It was hers. All hers. And how she couldn't wait to see what it was capable of. She had gushed about it to anyone who would listen. So ready to show the world what she had made. She was so proud.

Her beautiful creation.

She took better care of the Portal than her own children. She had beamed when she first saw it working. Danny had turned it on; he had somehow got it working. He had looked shaken up and terrified.

He had said that it had gave him a little shock. "N...n...nothing... too...Serious! J....j....jjust...a little sh....Shock. I...We.. were.... Fooling around....I know we shouldn't've ...But... I think ....it must have been on....Some kinda delay...Or something..."

Nothing serious.

He had died.

And he hid it from her. He hadn't told his own mother what happened.

_What's wrong, sweetie?_

_Let me kiss it to make it better._

_Why don't you talk to me anymore?_

He had become a ghost, not just any ghost either, but the most unusual and fascinating ghost there was, and he had kept it a secret. How could he? Didn't he know how much she wanted to know all about him?

_What makes you so different, Phantom?_

_Let me know what you are._

_Why do you seem to contradict every single bit of evidence we gather?_

He kept all those discoveries that could revolutionize the ectobiology field to himself, denying her answers. How dare he. 

"Nothing's wrong,"

"I'm fine, mom"

"It's just normal teenager stuff,"

"I'm just tired,"

"You wouldn't understand,"

_I would if you let me._

He had looked her in the eye and told her he was fine.

And she had believed him. Too preoccupied with how her precious portal was functioning to check if her baby boy was okay.

What kind of mother was she?

She couldn't bear to be here any longer. She bolted out the door.

Into the kitchen.

Yes. Here was OK. Here the only memories that would assult her were memories of family meals.

Where their inventions had mutated the dinner,... just like they had mutated her son. Where the topic of conversation was always how they were going to tear apart ghosts and study their remains...And they had said that right in front of Danny.

Her son. Who was a ghost.

She sighed and with shaking hands managed to make herself a cup of coffee. No sleep for her. Her dreamland was not a pleasant place. Her subconscious self was a terrible person.

She was a terrible person, and an even worse mother.

Coffee in hand. She headed to the living room. In search of somewhere without conflicting memories of just how bad a parent she truly was. She sat on the couch. On the table in front of her was the Fenton Finder*tm. A couple days ago Jack was trying to figure out why it was malfunctioning.

It wasn't. It just kept saying that her son was a ghost. And he was.

Jack was also trying to stop the A.I. from insulting the user, even when the user clearly misses all the signs that their son was a ghost.

The device sparked and sprang to life. "ghost detected approximately 15 feet. just outside the house," A chill went through her. An enemy. A ghost.

A distraction. A hunt. Prey that she didn't have to feel guilty for ripping apart.

Ripping apart.

Danny's muffled screams echoed in her head.

No. No ghost hunting tonight. She didn't think she could bear it.

Besides there was no need to worry, a ghost couldn't get in. Not with their high quality security system.

"Ghost detected 10 feet away. Inside the house," Maddie sprung to her feet. Something inside her wanted to hunt, to hurt, to be the one in charge. To inflict the torturous pain she was in on something else. To protect her family from the horrors of the unknown.

How dare an enemy infiltrate her base.

How dare a ghost come to the place where her family is.

Her own miserable emotions be dammed, after all it was probably them that summoned this creature. If her prey so foolishly wanders in to the den of the predator then she will strike. If this ghost thought it would find a feast in her despair, then it would soon be reminded who she is. Dr. Madeline Fenton Ghost Hunter, Black Belt, Ecto-biologist.

There will be no ghosts in her house if she had anything to say about it.

She grabbed a spare ecto-gun that was hidden behind the couch for moments just like this. "Ghost directly behind you," the foyer was behind her. What ghost would walk right in, through a ghost hunter's front door? She grabbed the device turned it down slightly.

She felt a chill run up her spine. A ghost behind her. Sneaking up on her from out of the shadows. She needed to turn around.

She gathered her courage and spun.

Her ecto-gun pointed right between the startled blue eyes of... her son.

Right.

Ghost. In her house.

She was an idiot.

"You would have to be some sort of moron not to see the ghost directly ahead" the Finder added insult to injury.

She swallowed hard. Lowered her weapon, and forced a smile onto her face, "Hi, sweetie," her voice was sickly sweet and she faught the urge to gag. "what are you doing up?"

"Umm...I um... Sorry..." He assumed a shameful stance, "I uh...Snuck out...To see Sam?" it was more of a question than an excuse. A lie. He was still so bad at telling them, but despite that his go-to reaction was still to lie to her. Old habits. Three days since everything had changed. And yet nothing had changed. He wasn't used to it yet, either. She saw the Fenton Thermos that he subtlety hid behind his back.

A couple days ago she would have believed him, no matter how bad he was at lying. She would have scolded him for sneaking out. She would have yelled at him for being irresponsible. She would have punished him for helping people. And she would have ignored the suspicious way he looked like he had just gotten run over. He was hurt. She would have ignored the way the device in her hand had told her the truth when her son had lied. How often their inventions had told them the truth. How often her son had lied to her face. Guess he is not terrible at lying after all. Practice makes perfect. Or maybe I am just terrible at seeing the truth. She would have chosen not to see the way his eyes filled with pure terror in that split second before she lowered her weapon.

But, she couldn't do that to him now. 

She wished she could, but she couldn't pretend to still be blind.

No more pretending. No more lies. No more pointless denial. She couldn't do that anymore. 

"Danny, I know, remember," she said so softly, but with his advanced hearing he couldn't have missed it.

"You... know?..." He was panicking but trying not to show it.

"Yes, I know that-" she was cut off by the stupid invention. "ghost directly ahead. You complete idiot there is a ghost directly ahead,"  
Yes, thank you, she thought bitterly to the invention. "Yeah...That," She finished lamely. After three days and she still couldn't bring herself to say what he is out loud. His eyes widened in understanding and fear. It had served its purpose, she switched the finder off and put it down.

"Oh," She hated seeing that he still was afraid of her, but more than that she hated that she really couldn't blame him.

"Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," he said too quickly. 

"No injuries?" She asked suspiciously. "I could take a look..." She stopped. He flinched back from her. He didn't want her touching him. He was right not to, but that didn't make it hurt any less.

"It's fine, Mom. Nothing I can't handle," he waved her off. Expecting it to be dropped just like that. He moved away from her towards the lab.

She should have let it drop. She should have spared him more of this. She shouldn't have followed him, but she did.

He made his way towards the portal and released his catches. She watched.

"Danny...I..." It was never easy to talk to him now that she knew.

He jumped a bit when he heard her voice. "Oh, hey Mom. Whatchya doing down here?" There was a slight suspicion in his question. His body stiffened. His muscles taught. Ready to spring.

"I wanted to...Talk to you..."

"OK." He turned to face her. The light of the portal making it so she could really only see his silhouette. And those unnervingly bright eyes in a shadowed face. He glanced around for a way out. Head turning ever so slightly as a panicked gaze fell on her, her gun still in her hand at her side, the dissection table in the corner of the room, and finally out the door. He was preparing, fight or flight if need be.

"Are you okay? Really, Danny with... All of this..." _With what you are. With me. What I did to you. What I wanted to do to you. What I still want to do for you. To you. _She couldn't ask him what she wanted to ask him. 

"... Yeah, ...I mean I have kinda gotten used to it," A chuckle and a hand nervously rubbing the back of his neck. A gesture she had seen him do so many times before. But his eyes never softened. He was still on guard. As well he should be. The hunter had him cornered and this time she wanted _answers_.

"Do you ever..." She needed to be careful. Tread softly. Cornered animals can be desperate and violent. "Ever...Miss being... Human?"

"I... am human,"

_no Danny, you aren't_. But what kind of mother could say that to her child?

"Half," she managed to say.

"Yeah,...Half,"

"If... there was... A way for us to..." _Careful, Maddie_. She reminded herself, _this ghost is dangerous_. Her son is dangerous. "Fix-" that was the wrong word.

"Fix?" He asked in a low voice, closer to a literal animalistic growl. His eyes mimicking the portal behind him.

"No... Not fix... Help you..." No, still the wrong thing to say.

"And how exactly would you 'help' me? By tearing me in half? By ripping the ghost out of me? By flushing the ectoplasm from my system? You do realize that all of that will probably really full-kill me, right?!" His eyes were hard and inhuman. Suddenly she felt herself tearing out his core again, holding the disgusting pulsating thing that did not belong in her child.

But he was right, a ghost cannot survive without it's core. He couldn't survive without his core. If she flushed the ectoplasm from his system all that will be left is what should have come out of the accident to begin with: her son's corpse.

No.

No, no fixing him. It would kill him.

It would destroy this unique creature.

She couldn't do that. She wanted to protect her baby. She wanted to learn from this anomaly. Neither the mother nor the scientist wanted to loose him. She needed to preserve him for prosperity.

He was perfect, just they way he was. Such a beautifully _twisted_ creation; an insult to both the natural and the supernatural. A creature with no scientific president. Her bouncing baby boy. Come look at what I brought into this world. My beautiful creation.

"No...No nothing like that... Just...We could help with your more... Delicate needs... If we could understand more about... What you are... going through," keep it personal. Play it like a concerned mother.

She was concerned.

"You want to know what I am going through?" He scoffed. "How I feel? Well for starters how about how you guys don't treat me like a human being anymore!"

_That's because you are not a human being anymore, Danny_. It was impossible for her to think of him as one. She had been trying for three days.

She had been _failing_ for three days.

Yes, he was still her son, but he certainly wasn't human. That was a delusion. Sure he sometimes looked like one, maybe even managed to act like one. But he wasn't.

But she couldn't say that.

What could she say?

This specimen before her was not human. Which meant that it was ethically okay to do whatever she wanted to it.

But he was still her son. Her flesh and blood.

Plus ectoplasm.

Hers. And she cared for him so much. He was her responsibility. She loved her little creation. As any artist would love their masterpiece. As she loved her portal. As a mother loves her child.

She needed to help him. She always believed in action. Critique the artwork. Repair the malfunctioning machine. Kiss the boo-boo. Understand the problem. Then work on fixing it.

_Let me understand you._

_Let me fix it._

"Sweetie, I... just want to make sure that this... isn't hurting you,"_ Is that really all you want?_ A traitorous voice asked in the back of her mind.

"It's not,"

"But...You are in pain," she continued. 

"Yeah, cuz I just got slammed into the pavement. Not because of... This" He shut her down again. 

"But you fight ghosts because of...This.." neither of them really defined what '_this_' is. Neither wanted to.

"I fight ghosts because I am the one who can,"

_No, you fight ghosts because of an obsession hard-wired into you. You're not well, Danny. Sick. Like a mental illness. Not in your right mind, because of what you are_.

But saying that is just asking for trouble.

"I know, sweetie. I am so proud of you, for helping people..." _Careful. Flatter him. Complement his obsession, prune him. Appeal to his familial bond and the social aspect of his obsession. Ease into the bad news, while keeping the predator at bay_. "But you can't deny that it's dangerous," _Let me help you. Please, let me understand you._

"I'm fine,"

"No you aren't,"

"What do you expect me to do? Stop? Leave Amity in danger? Leave them vulnerable? Let people get hurt? When I could prevent it? When I am responsible for protecting them?! Ignore everything? When I ne... When I ha... When I should've helped?" _When you need to help. When you have to protect._ She was asking him to go against his main programming. It would probably be agonizing to deny his essence like that.

Could he even do it? Any other ghost, no it would be impossible, they couldn't just ignore their obsession anymore than a human could decide that they didn't want to breathe anymore. But, him? He was impossible, if anyone could do it; he could just turn off his breathing. It would be simply _fascinating_ if there was a ghost that could just not follow their obsession. It would again change so much about what they thought they knew.  
This ghost was always turning her theories on their head, it was truly amazing. And frustrating. This was part of the reason she wanted Phantom in particular for so long. It was an entirely unique specimen, and oh so much fun. If she could somehow prevent him from fulfilling his obsession...No that wouldn't work....If she tried to prevent him, through anything physical or something like that, he would fight back, instinct taking over. No, she couldn't outright stop him.

But if she tried another way? If she asked, he might do it. For his distraught mother. He might be able to try if she appealed to his obsession at the same time as denying it. If she said the right things to him, made him feel the right amount of guilt about causing her to worry. Played with his need to keep her safe and happy, and used his deeply engrained disregard for his own safety and wellbeing against him. Ghosts will ignore everything for the pursuit of an obsession and his was broad and vauge enough that it was ridiculously easy to manipulate. So much could be justified under the umbrella term of '_protection_' , he could be easily persuaded to ignore his basic needs, both human and ghostly. He always was stubborn so she had no doubts that he fight like crazy to resist giving in to something he had convinced himself to believe is '_selfish_', even if it was something every fiber of his being craved. He would try to purposefully prevent himself from going out and fighting, for her because it hurt her when he put himself in danger. Denying his obsession in a paradoxical way to try and satisfy it. How _fascinating_.

It would be _torture_ for a ghost though. For him. Her son. She couldn't do that.

"I'm not asking you to stop," he couldn't stop anyway. And if he did stop, it would only hurt him worse. "I...Just want... to..." She trailed off. What did she want to do? Oh, she _knew_ the answer to that. But she also knew that she couldn't ever do what she wanted to do. No. Never, not to him. Her son.

Oh why did it have to be her son that was this scientific marval? She couldn't separate the boy from the ghost, anymore than she could separate the scientist from the mother. She loved him no matter what. She had to keep reminding herself that. She couldn't do anything to him, because she loved him. She loved him. She loved him. "I love you, sweetie"

"I know. I love you too, Mom"

She loved him. But... She also was overwhelmingly curious about him. She wanted to know. She wanted to feel his core. She wanted to see exactly what was inside of him._ I love you_. _What makes you tick? I would love to know. I love you. I would love to rip you apart, sweetie. I love you._ Shameful tears filled her eyes.

She nearly collapsed, her nightmare rushing back to her in full graphic detail. The truth was ugly and awful, but that's what she wanted. She couldn't ever have what she wanted. It was a twisted desire. But she couldn't help it. She had stolen an essential part from him, stripped him of his humanity in her mind, and no matter what she did she couldn't give it back. She had lost everything in her pursuit of knowledge. Nothing could erase all those clever little theories that told her that he was beneath her, _subhuman_.

She couldn't go back to thinking about him as a human being.

He was still her son, but he wasn't the same. Nothing was. She didn't look at him in the same way. And she was starting to realize that she never would. She didn't understand him in the same way that she understood human behavior. She didn't feel him on some deeper level that she couldn't rationalize or even try and put into words. He wasn't the same as her, as everyone else in the world. He didn't belong; he was no longer something her mind recognized as '_one of us'._

Maybe that was the true tragic horror that her subconscious had tapped into.

The real nightmare that woke her up screaming.

"Mom! Are you okay?" He rushed over to her. His compulsion to protect her took over. She had triggered his obsession.

"I'm fine, sweetie. Just...tired..."  
He looked at her worriedly. He gave her the same look she gave him when he said those words to her.

_No you aren't_.

He helped her up. "It is pretty late, what were you doing up anyway?"

"I couldn't... sleep,"

"Oh," He led her back upstairs to the kitchen.  
They looked at each other from accross the table. He made her another cup of coffee. "Do you want to talk about it?"

_No, and you don't want me to talk about it either. You really don't want to know._

"It's just... Hard to...Get used to. I keep thinking about what if ...we had caught you," _I keep wishing that we had caught you before everything got so complicated. Back before I knew that it was you, and I could dissect you guilt free. How awful is that_?

How could she ever think that?

"Oh,"

"I love you, so much. I am so sorry. I am so sorry," she was sobbing again.

He thought she was apologizing for the _past_.

"Hey, it's okay. When you hunted me you didn't know. You didn't know,"

But she _wasn't_.

"But now I do, oh Danny... I am a horrible mother,"

"No, you aren't,"

_Yes I am. Because now I know and I still want to..._

The coffee wasn't helping. It sat between them untouched. She was still so tired.

She wanted to sleep.

But she couldn't face her dreams.

_Because I am having dreams about vivisecting you. I am looking at you now and trying to see what you are thinking and wondering if it's human or ghostly. I look at you and all I see is an impossible hybrid ripe with scientific potential. I can't help it. You are too interesting. Too tempting. Too mysterious. I just want to examine and experiment_.

_You are my son._

_I know that now._

_But you are also Phantom._

_And I know that now._

"My son. Oh, my sweet little Danny," she murmured. "Yes I am," She told him softly.

She thought back to what she told him three days ago. "Danny. Ghost or human. Fenton or Phantom. It doesn't matter. It doesn't change how I feel about you. Sweetie, nothing could ever change the way I see you,"

She now revised it in her head.

_Phantom. Human or ghost. Phantom or Fenton. It doesn't matter. It doesn't change how I feel about you. What I want to do to you. Nothing could ever change the way I see you._

_As a ghost._

_As an experiment._

_As my son_.

She couldn't tell him any of this, because she knew that he probably has had the exact same nightmare.

"I'm so sorry," she whispered over and over.

So she will face the nightmares by herself. Like he is forced to face his nightmares by himself. When he was younger, still her baby boy, still alive, he would run to her in times of nightmares. He would get into their bed and hide under the ecto-repellent blankets. But now... Everything had changed. She can't protect him from his nightmares.

But she will try her best to protect him from herself.

She will never act on her terrible thoughts. She swears it. She swears on her son's empty and missing grave.

She can't help her thoughts. But her actions? Those she _can _and _will_ control.

The last thing she could do for her son. The only thing she could do that was truly in his best interest. Is make sure he never knows exactly what she thinks of him.

He probably suspects. She hasn't exactly been subtle.

Especially if Phantom is able to sense emotions the way ghosts have been theorized to do.

He knows she is not comfortable with him being a ghost. He must.

He must know it disgusts her. He must know that it interests her. He must know it terrifies her.

But she will make sure he doesn't know exactly what she still wishes she could do. He won't know how she she can only see the ghost of her son, when she looks at him. Her son is dead. But she won't disrespect his death. She will honor the boy he used to be, and let his ghost go free. 

It's her turn to lie to him.

She will give him that. A comforting lie of acceptance. Let him think that those horrible fantasies and desires vanished in one flash of revealing light. The way she _wished_ they had. Let him think that years of prejudice were easily worked through and everything was fine. Or at the very least have him think that she was working hard to get past that prejudice.

And she will school herself to be convincing. It's her turn to put on an act. Her turn to split her identity and hide a part of herself from him, put the scientist away, for his protection.

And it's his turn to be blissfully ignorant. His turn to not look at things too closely. His turn to turn a blind eye to the inconvenient truths of the world.

Their relationship is still based on _lies_.

"I love you," she repeats again filling the awkward silence. She was growing more and more tired. It had been a rough night. For both of them. And now they need to return to the horrors that await them in sleep.

"I know. I love you too, mom," He murmurs, as she slowly sinks into another nightmare.

"I'm so sorry sweetie," she mumbles half coherent. "I promise to try and be a better mother," she tells him. Her words sway, drunk on drowsiness. But she manages to meet his eyes and promise this to him. She would deny herself everything she wants, for him.

It's her who must torturously deny her own obsessive desires. For him. Her son. A mother must do what she can for her child. And that means she will never know what she wants to know.

She will never take him apart the way she wants to.She will never have Phantom. Because she couldn't. Not unless she wanted to loose Danny.

She didn't.

If she had to choose, she would always pick her son.

She just hopes that she has the strength to resist this temptation sitting right in front of her. She hopes that she never breaks this promise.

"I know, you're trying. I get it," her selfless little boy gives her the benefit of doubt. He wants so much to believe, and so he does.

She begins sobbing again and a cold hand comes up to rub her back. Her son gives the comfort she doesn't deserve.

This is how she falls asleep.

Consciousness slips through her fingers.

* * *

She is back on that stage. Trapped in a nightmare.

Screaming. Sobbing. Laughing.

Breaking down. Warring with herself. Going mad.

Pleading for her baby boy to wake up.

With his core held in her hand. Knowing it was pointless.

Her son is dead. She had killed him. And then she went even further.

"I'm so sorry, sweetie," she whispered as she lovingly stroked the oozing dripping disgustingly beautiful core that she had just ripped out of him. "I love you,"


End file.
